What Happens in Vegas
by PhoenixPhoether
Summary: On waking up in the same bed after a conference, too much to drink, and an encounter with an Elvis impersonator, Harry and Draco decide to use their accidental fake marriage as leverage against their meddling friends. Unfortunately, they fail to factor in their fourteen-year-old sons, their nosy ex-wives, and Hermione's research. What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas.


**A/N:** This is complete crack. It's entirely silly fun, written for a writing challenge. I asked for a prompt and was given "fake marriage." This is unbeta'd, and it's really not my best work. Still, I hope it makes you smile.

**Disclaimer:** They're not mine; they belong to J. K. Rowling. But I do like to coax them out of the closet to play now and again.

**Warnings:** Silliness. Fluff. Men kissing.

* * *

Harry came slowly into wakefulness. He yawned and stretched then reeled when his arm collided with something solid. Glancing down, he saw a duvet-covered lump with a tuft of blond hair spread across the pillows.

_Shit!_ He leapt out of bed before realising he might be starkers. When he went to snatch one of the pillows, he looked down and saw he was still wearing what he'd had on the night before. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slumped into a chair by the bed. At least nothing seemed to have happened, and his memories of the night before were creeping back in.

Which led to his second bout of swearing, only he managed to do it out loud in such a manner it woke his companion, resulting in both men yelling, "What the hell?"

Harry stared across the bed at Malfoy. Under any other circumstances he'd have been sorely tempted to laugh at Malfoy's unkempt state. His clothes were even more rumpled than Harry's, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles, making Harry's mop look positively sleek. He had a red crease across his cheek where the pillow-case had dug into his skin, and his eyes were bloodshot.

After several minutes, Malfoy managed to ask, "What exactly am I doing in this bed? And why are _you_ here?"

"Give yourself a minute." Harry folded his arms and tried to appear casual, despite the raging headache blooming and the flush creeping into his cheeks.

Malfoy closed his eyes, taking on a look of concentration. When he opened them again, he said, "I remember having far too much of a Muggle drink called a…a…something iced tea? And going to a chapel to get married by that Elves thingummy."

"You mean, Elvis impersonator?"

Malfoy nodded. "That. I just don't remember _why_." He frowned. "Are we married now?"

"Merlin, no, we're not actually married. For one thing, we're not even citizens of this country, and I think they have strict laws about that. For another, it was a Muggle wedding chapel. I don't think it counts."

"Good." Malfoy climbed to his feet. "I feel like hell. I'm going to go take a shower, and then we're getting out of here."

Harry chuckled. "You do that."

Malfoy disappeared into the tiny motel bathroom, and Harry watched him go. He wasn't nearly the insufferable git he'd been more than twenty years prior. Harry supposed it was down to a whole host of circumstances that they could be in the same room—and have woken up in the same bed, no less—without hexing one another. At minimum, they had their fourteen-year-old sons to thank for some of it and their ex-wives for most of the rest.

Harry sorted through a stack of things he'd left on the small table in the corner the night before. When he came across their 'wedding certificate', he sniggered thinking about telling Ron of their adventures in 'accidentally not exactly getting married by Elvis whilst pissed'. Ron's face was sure to be priceless, and Harry could almost hear Hermione's tut-tutting over stupid and irresponsible things to do on the last night of an extended trip to a conference. A rather entertaining thought occurred to him, but he figured he should run it by Malfoy first.

When Malfoy emerged from the bath, he looked ten times better than he had. Naturally, he curled his lip at Harry's still-rumpled state, but Harry ignored him.

"I was just thinking," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Don't strain yourself," Malfoy muttered, rummaging in his bag for his tie.

"No, listen," Harry persisted. "I was imagining what my friends will say when I tell them what happened."

Malfoy straightened up and looked at him. "That you are clearly insane and must be immediately transported to the Janus Thickey ward?"

Harry chuckled. "No, although that's a likely scenario as well. They're going to have plenty to say about it, though. I suppose yours will as well?"

"No idea," Malfoy said. "I wasn't planning on telling them."

"Oh, but you should," Harry replied. "In fact…I propose we have a bit of fun at their expense, yeah?"

At that, Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

"I say we tell them we really are married. You know International Wizarding Law says if we have a magical ceremony, we can get married anywhere."

The_ Lumos_ went on. "And you want to tell them the Elves impersonator was a wizard."

"_Elvis_ impersonator, and yes." Harry's smile widened.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Why, exactly, do you want to do this?"

Harry shrugged. "Get them back for all the times they've tried to set me up on dates in the last six months. Don't tell me you haven't had the same experience?"

Malfoy's shoulders slumped. "No, I have. Pansy and Blaise seem to think enough time has gone by that I ought to be dating." He huffed. "Being forty and single isn't as much fun as it sounds."

"No, it's not," Harry agreed. "So? What about it?"

"Fine. Pretending to be married to you for the sake of getting revenge—or getting them off our backs, anyway—can't be worse than what they're already doing."

"Then that settles it." Harry grinned. "When we get home, we'll tell them all about our _fabulous_ Vegas vacation."

* * *

Less than a week later, Harry firecalled his closest friends. "Okay to come through?" he asked. He tried to sound nervous when he added, "I've something to tell you."

Hermione frowned. "What is it you've done?"

"Just let me come through?"

She huffed. "Fine. But Ron's not home yet."

"Good. I'm…bringing someone with me, and I doubt Ron will like it."

At that, Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I see."

She didn't object, so Harry gave Malfoy the address and shoved him into the fireplace, following after. They stepped out, knocking into one another in their haste. When Hermione saw them, her eyes went wide.

"Harry—?"

"Erm." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't fidget. "We've, er, done something. We thought you should know."

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "Yes?"

"We sort of…more or less…got married."

There was a very long silence during which Hermione's mouth remained gaping. At last she snapped it shut and glared at both men. "Just what in Merlin's name were the pair of you thinking?" she hissed.

"We weren't," Harry told her. "We had rather too much to drink and found one of those Elvis impersonators to do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, then you know that doesn't count, of course."

"Erm."

She narrowed her eyes. "What."

"Well…it turns out…he was a wizard."

"Oh, dear God."

They stood there without speaking long enough that the Floo roared to life and Ron stepped out. He took in the scene and immediately drew his wand.

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing in my living room, and what hex have you cast?" he demanded.

"Oh, do be quiet, Weasel," Malfoy drawled. "No one's been hexed, and I think you might like to ask Po—Harry about what happened."

Harry recounted the story one more time. Ron's face grew increasingly red throughout, though he wisely kept his mouth closed. He turned to Hermione.

"Surely there's a way to annul it or whatever," he said.

"Probably. I don't know much about accidental bonds, though." She sighed. "I suppose it's time to do some research." She didn't sound terribly upset about the prospect.

Harry cleared his throat. "It wasn't exactly accidental."

Hermione and Ron both stared, mouths gaping and eyes wide.

"Harry?" Hermione asked timidly. "S-something you'd like to tell us?"

He reached out to grasp Malfoy's hand; Malfoy tensed briefly, but he returned the squeeze. Harry's fingers tingled where they were joined. "We may have been completely pissed when we got married, but this has been going on for a while. Why do you think I kept putting you off about finding someone?" He made sure to lean in and brush their shoulders together affectionately.

She sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Just like that you're letting this go?" Ron demanded. He rounded on Malfoy. "This is all your fault. I know the pair of you are 'friends' now or whatever, but you probably put some curse on Harry. I don't know what game you're playing at—"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Weasel. Po—Harry's an Auror. Do you really think it would be that easy to curse him?" To Hermione, he said, "Thank you. We'll be going now so we can explain this to my friends."

They took their leave, returning to Harry's, where Harry collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"I thought Ron was going to explode for a moment there," Harry chuckled. "Well, that'll keep them occupied for the time being whilst they recover from the shock. Shall we go lay it on for Pansy and Blaise next?"

This time, Harry let Malfoy do all the talking. He explained the situation, surprising Harry by being even more handsy than Harry had been. At one point, he slid his hand down to squeeze Harry's arse, making him jump. Malfoy glanced sideways and smirked. Harry could only guess what he was thinking, and it annoyed him until he saw how Pansy ate it up.

"I simply cannot believe you hid something like this from us," Pansy said. "Although I'm hardly surprised."

Harry would have commented on the similarity of her reaction to Hermione's, but Malfoy somehow had anticipated it and elbowed him. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Well, this is all well and good, but it does put a damper on my plans for you this weekend, darling," Pansy complained.

"And those would be?"

"I have a friend—"

Draco cut her off. "Stop right there. This is precisely why we didn't say anything. We didn't want you lot meddling. Please promise me you'll leave well enough alone now."

"Oh, fine. You have my word."

Blaise chuckled. "You could have just told us you didn't want any more help with your love life, you know. No need to go and get yourself married to that one." He jerked his head towards Harry. "How do we know he didn't curse you?"

"Oh, please. Do you really think I'm so foolish as to be caught unawares?"

"You did say you were under the influence at the time." Blaise laughed harder and clapped Malfoy on the shoulder. "Never could hold your firewhiskey, could you?"

Malfoy scowled at him. "Yes, well, that's the mark of being raised properly." Before Blaise could offer a scathing retort, Malfoy said, "If you care to contact us, we'll be available by owl."

He pulled Harry to the fireplace, and they whisked themselves to Malfoy's house. When they stepped out, Harry was surprised to see both their sons waiting for them.

"Dad!" Albus exclaimed. "Aunt Hermione just firecalled—"

"—and said you were in trouble," Scorpius finished.

"But she wouldn't say what," Albus added.

Harry huffed. "Not exactly. Let's sit down and we'll explain everything."

When they had finished their tale for the third time, both Albus and Scorpius were grinning and exchanging looks that left Harry feeling more than a little nervous about what they were up to. It was their fault, really, that Harry and Malfoy were capable of civilised conversation. When they'd been sorted together, they had taken a liking to one another almost immediately. At last Albus had someone on his side for once—James and Lily were an awful pair—and Scorpius had someone nearly as good as a brother. It was impossible for their fathers to go on disliking each other in the wake of such friendship, wasn't it?

It wasn't until after their wives became friendly, howwever, that things changed, especially during what could have been two contentious divorces. They'd all helped each other keep things remarkably polite during the proceedings, and that had simply continued afterward. It wasn't at all Harry's fault that he was nursing a growing attraction, especially after they'd both been sent by the Ministry to the same event in Vegas. Too bad it was one-sided.

When Harry and Malfoy finished speaking, Albus glanced and Scorpius and said, "Not very surprising, is it?"

Scorpius added, "Nope. So, does that mean Mr Potter is moving in?" He smirked at Harry, looking very much like his father, and added, "And can I call you Dad?"

"Ooh, yeah," Albus agreed. His face lit up. "Dad, if you live here, that means I can, too!"

Harry frowned. "And just where will James and Lily be?"

"They're spending the Easter hols with Mum," Albus said. "I was going to ask if it was all right for Scorpius to stay with us—"

"—or for Albus to stay here," Scorpius added. "But now we don't have to!"

Malfoy chuckled, albeit weakly. "Leave it to them to find a way to get what they want out of us. All right. We'll stay here, then. Yes?" He looked to Harry.

"Yes, all right. Just let me go home and pack a bag."

* * *

Harry returned shortly before dinner, elegantly prepared for all four of them by Malfoy's house-elf. The boys kept speaking in low tones and looking at Harry and Malfoy, sniggering. It made Harry want to squirm like a small child.

Once the boys had gone to bed, Harry and Malfoy settled into an awkward silence in the lounge. Malfoy offered something considerably less potent than the Muggle cocktails that had started the whole mess. Harry accepted his and sipped slowly.

"How long do you suppose we should drag this out?" he asked.

"No idea," Malfoy said. "This was your plan, Potter."

"Oh, I suppose we should give it until the end of the hols. No doubt the boys will work out the truth before then anyway. I would say everyone was sufficiently shocked and upset tonight, but…" Harry let his voice trail off.

"But what?"

Harry frowned. "Well, Ron and Blaise seemed upset, true, but no one seemed particularly surprised, exactly."

"Yes, I noticed that as well." Malfoy snorted. "No matter. By the time we tell, them, they'll get the message that we don't need—or want—their help."

"Right." Harry put his glass on the table. "Well, if you'll show me a room, I'd like to get some sleep."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You do realise we cannot sleep separately?"

"What?" Harry demanded. "Why not?"

With the patience of one speaking to a very small child, Malfoy said slowly, "The boys think we're married."

"Right." Harry sighed. "Well, then, at least show me where we're going. I can transfigure a chair."

On their way upstairs, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, he was missing something particularly important.

* * *

After a poor night's sleep on a transfigured chair—never as good as the real thing—Harry awoke tired and irritable. He scowled through breakfast, and Malfoy kept shooting him scathing looks. If he was trying to get Harry to snap out of it, he'd chosen a poor method.

For their part, the boys continued exchanging whispers and glances. At one point, Scorpius remarked that for newlyweds, the pair of them were awfully grumpy. That earned Malfoy sending both boys from the table, after which he rounded on Harry.

"This whole ridiculous thing was your idea, and now you're ruining it for Merlin knows what reason. Will you kindly make an effort here?"

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered. "It's that damn bed. My back is in agony—it was like sleeping on a pile of rocks."

"That's what you get for poor transfigurations," Malfoy snapped. He sighed. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well either, actually. The room was drafty, and I kept having to get up for more blankets."

Harry blinked. "The room was just fine," he said. "You might want to check the warming spells on your sheets."

"Hm. Perhaps you're right."

Albus' head appeared around the corner. "Have you made it up yet? Because Scorp and I want to go 'round to see Rose today."

"Yes, we're fine," Harry said. "Come on. I'll Apparate you there." He stood up and headed for the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Albus asked, a note of false innocence in his voice.

Harry frowned. "No, I—"

Albus rolled his eyes. "For just having got married, the pair of you aren't exactly very kissy, are you?"

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a glance. This was going to be harder than they'd thought. "Well, not all couples—hang on. Why doesn't that embarrass you?"

Shrugging, Albus replied, "I've seen Mum kiss her new boyfriend loads of times. Shouldn't you be, you know, a bit more…I dunno, into each other?"

Malfoy cleared his throat. "We've been so used to hiding it for all this time. Difficult to change habits."

Albus huffed. "Well, you don't have to now, so why bother?"

"Actually, you're right," Harry said. He stalked over to Malfoy and leaned down. "Play along," he whispered in his ear before shifting so they were face to face. He took Malfoy's chin in his hand and lowered his lips, pressing them lightly against Malfoy's.

The effect was sharp and instantaneous. A thrill raced from his mouth all the way down his spine, and he pressed in more firmly. In a moment, they were sharing a passionate, closed-mouth kiss. When Malfoy's tongue darted out to brush against Harry's lips, he gasped and pulled back.

Breathing rapidly, he said, "There. Are you satisfied?"

"Quite," Albus said, grinning.

On their way out of the kitchen, Harry glanced back at Malfoy, who had opened the _Daily Prophet_ and was deeply immersed in Page Three, giving no indication he had any thoughts about the previous two minutes. Mildly disappointed, Harry shook his head and followed Albus to the foyer.

* * *

At Ron and Hermione's, Albus and Scorpius skipped off with Rose to do who-knew-what. Meanwhile, Harry sat down with Hermione for some tea.

"You know," she said, "you really ought to have a wedding reception."

"What for?" Harry demanded.

"To celebrate, of course," she said sweetly. "I would be happy to plan it. I might ask Ginny for some help."

"You're going to ask my ex-wife to plan my wedding reception?" Harry gaped at her.

"Oh, don't sound so sour about it. I know you get on quite well now, and it's been long enough she's not still angry with you—if she ever really was, that is."

"Trust me, she was. If it hadn't been for Astoria—"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well, anyway, we should at least have a small party. Us, Ginny…is there anyone Mal—Draco would want to invite?"

Harry sighed. "Probably Blaise and Pansy, and Astoria, if Ginny's going to be there. Can we keep this small? I don't really—" He cut himself off and shook his head. What was he thinking? He didn't need a wedding reception of any kind! On balance, he decided they might as well. If they really did keep it small, they could tell everyone the truth all at once rather than in batches. "Fine. As long as I don't have to plan it," he told Hermione.

"Oh, wonderful! I'll firecall Ginny as soon as you've gone." She huffed. "Pansy too, I suppose."

Hermione was far too interested in the whole thing for Harry's liking, so he changed the subject. They spent the rest of the morning talking about work, which on this occasion, was a welcome distraction.

* * *

At supper, Socrpius complained at them, "You're sitting much too far apart. Father, why don't you go and sit beside Mr Potter—er, Dad?"

Harry choked at the way Scorpius addressed him, and Malfoy glared at his son. "I am eating. There is no need for us to be on top of one another during meals."

"It's all right. We can sit closer together." Harry switched places with Albus. He looked over at Malfoy, who seemed to have resigned himself to the situation. "I suppose this makes it easier to fill you in on what Hermione said today, er…love." His face heated at referring to Malfoy with a term of endearment.

"Yeah, what were you and Aunt Hermione talking about?" Albus asked.

"She and your mother—and presumably Astoria and Pansy—want to have a wedding reception."

Malfoy's spoon clattered into his bowl. "They want to what?"

"Have a reception. I agreed, since that seems like the ideal time to let everyone know what our permanent living arrangements will be." He nudged Malfoy under the table.

Catching on, Malfoy said, "Ah, yes. Well, as long as they keep it to a minimum."

"That's what I said, too," Harry replied.

"Oh, good! A reception!" Scorpius exclaimed. "When is it?"

"The night before you return to Hogwarts." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Since when is a fourteen-year-old boy interested in wedding receptions?"

"Since right now," Scorpius told him. "Come on, Al. Let's start figuring out what to give them as a gift."

Harry stared after them, thinking once again there was something he didn't quite like about their sons' behavior. He turned to Malfoy.

"I think I'm going to bed early tonight. I'm still sore from last night, and I'm hoping to transfigure my bed properly this time." He stood up.

"I'll come with you," Malfoy said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, Malfoy said, "Give you a hand. Maybe I can do a better job with the transfiguration."

"That's…very kind of you," Harry replied. "I'll adjust the warming charms on your sheets, then."

"Thank you, Potter."

They trooped upstairs and into the bedroom. This time, Draco cast the spells on the chair, and Harry laughed at the elegant bed he created. Meanwhile, he spent his time going over the pillows and blankets, making sure all the charms were stable.

When they finished, they readied themselves for bed—separately, of course. Harry climbed into the bed and snuggled down under the covers, warm and cosy…for all of three minutes. The rocks were back, hard lumps in the mattress. They were better than before, but not gone. He huffed and sat up, looking over at Malfoy.

Malfoy was also sitting up, rubbing his arms. "Potter, you cast the damn spells wrong. I'm freezing!"

"Well, I could say the same. I might as well sleep on the floor—it would be more comfortable." He got up. "Let me see. I was sure I charmed everything properly."

He climbed under the sheets next to Malfoy and almost sighed with pleasure. Malfoy's bed was fabulously comfortable. It was also plenty warm; he couldn't understand what Malfoy was complaining about.

"It seems warm enough to me," Harry commented.

Malfoy glanced at him. "Me too, actually. I suppose the charms might not have taken effect before?"

Harry shook his head. "I doubt it." He knit his brows in concentration. "Go see what you think of the bed you transfigured."

With a soft huff, Malfoy got up and moved to the other bed. Within a minute, he was climbing back out. "That's bloody awful!"

"Right. And for some reason, the minute you left this bed, it got cold." Harry tilted his head. "I wonder who might have been responsible for sabotaging our beds."

"I wonder," Malfoy replied sardonically. "Well, never mind. My bed's plenty big enough for two. Mind you stay on your side, though."

"No worries."

They curled away from each other, and within a few minutes, Harry had slipped into contented sleep.

* * *

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains in the bedroom. Harry stirred, smiling faintly when he felt the warmth of another body curled against his. It had been far too long since he'd woken up like that, and he pulled the other person closer. Still not fully awake, he hummed at the contact. The hum turned into a groan when the other person shifted against him.

He opened his eyes to see that it was Malfoy pressed against him, and he came fully aware of his surroundings. He didn't let go, however. Instead, he traced his thumb down Malfoy's cheek. Malfoy's lids fluttered and opened, and they looked at each other. Harry held his breath.

Without preamble, Malfoy closed the tiny gap between them and kissed him. For a long time, they lay there, pressed together shoulder to hip, legs entwined, savoring each other. Malfoy tangled his fingers in Harry's unruly hair, and Harry trailed his fingers up and down Malfoy's spine. They were in no hurry, still warm and sleepy, but the way their bodies were reacting, they weren't likely to remain that way long. Harry shifted just a little so he could slide a hand between them, reaching down—

At the touch, Malfoy shuddered and withdrew. "We can't," he said. "I—I can't."

Harry sighed. "Yeah." He rolled onto his back. "You're probably right." He turned his head to look at Malfoy. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. But I don't think this is a good idea." He sat up. "Our sons already did something to the room to force us together. Who knows what else they've done? We need to be clear-headed for that reception—and to tell our friends the truth. You're welcome to share my bed for the rest of the week, but we shouldn't do anything else."

"Right. Of course."

Harry should've known it was probably down to some prank the boys were playing. He wondered what they were getting out of it. He shoved off the covers and got up, not bothering to hide anything—they were both in the same position.

"I'm going to go take a very cold shower," he muttered.

To his surprise, Malfoy chuckled, and there was genuine humour in his voice when he said, "I may stay right here. Damn cold bed will have the same effect."

Grinning, Harry scooped up his clothes and trotted out to the bath.

* * *

For the next three days, both boys kept careful watch over their fathers, making Harry uncomfortable and Malfoy irritable. They managed to share the bed, but they resisted all temptation to use it for anything other than sleep. When Albus commented that they were 'awfully quiet' at night, making Harry's face flame, Malfoy merely muttered something about silencing spells—which only caused Harry to blush harder and Malfoy to glance at him and smirk.

At last the day of the reception arrived, and Hermione and Ginny spent the entire day preparing for it, accompanied—as predicted—by Pansy and Astoria. Ginny kept shooting knowing looks at Harry and Malfoy and smiling. Astoria hugged them both and said she was really pleased for them and had known all along they would be perfect for one another. Meanwhile, Harry spent the day wondering why in Merlin's name the women required all that time for a simple, small dinner party.

At five o'clock, he found out exactly why.

Somehow, Hermione must've done some complicated expansion charm on the house because otherwise, there was no possible way fifty people could've fit inside so easily. Before he could corner Hermione and have a word with her, Malfoy collared him and dragged him into a spare room.

"I never should've let you agree to this," he spat. "I don't even know who all these people are! How the hell are we supposed to tell them the truth now?"

"Well, I don't know! I told her to keep it small. This must be her idea of following my terms."

"Potter, this is all your fault. You were the one with the brilliant idea to be fake-married. Do something about it!"

"As I recall—which you might not, since you were pissed at the time—getting married at all was _your_ idea!"

"It was not! You take that back."

Harry shoved him up against the wall. "I will not. You don't remember, do you? In the bar, you told me I had pretty eyes and you wanted to kiss me. So you did, and it got awfully heated before someone told us to get a room—or a chapel. You thought it was a great idea and dragged me off to have Elvis marry us."

"Oh? Well, you certainly didn't object." Malfoy's face was close, his breath hot on Harry's cheek.

Harry's heart thumped. Surely Malfoy couldn't have known how he'd been feeling. "I—"

Malfoy stopped his answer with his lips, dragging Harry into a hot, sensual kiss. Abandoning any objections, Harry kissed back with equal fervor. They lost themselves for a few minutes until the sound of someone knocking loudly on the door startled them and they sprang apart. Desperately, they attempted to put themselves back together before Malfoy opened the door.

All four of their hostesses were there, looking highly amused. Harry huffed. "What?"

Pansy giggled. "Well, we were going to tell you everyone's here and we're ready for you to make your big announcement about your fake marriage, but it looks like it might be more real than we'd all thought."

Both Harry's and Malfoy's mouths dropped open. When Harry could speak, he said, "How did you know?"

"Albus," Hermione said. "He and Scorpius figured it out right away. Something about 'Uncle George's Extendable Ears', I believe."

While she was talking, Albus and Scorpius came around the corner. When they saw the scene, they exchanged glances and grinned. "Pay up," Scorpius said.

Albus flipped him a Galleon. "Good call on the beds," he said. "But I really thought they'd still try to convince us it wasn't real."

"Oh, shut it, the lot of you," Harry muttered. He sighed. "Fine. You all win. The marriage was fake." He looked at Malfoy—no, Draco—and smiled. "But I think whatever is between us is very real." He reached out to brush their fingers together, eliciting a tiny smile from Draco.

"Well…" Hermione said. She bit her lip. "That's what I wanted to tell you. I examined your marriage certificate, and you were right, Harry—that Elvis was a wizard."

"You can't be serious. I'm sorry we lied, but we were tired of being set up on dates. If you want to get us back, I understand, but not like this."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not joking, Harry. Y-you're married. To Mal—Draco."

Harry and Draco looked at each other then back at their friends. Draco shrugged. "There could be worse things." He pulled Harry in and kissed him again.

"Save it for later," Pansy scolded them. "We have a party to attend."

They filed out, Harry and Draco last. Before they exited the room, Harry sneaked one final kiss. "Are you—you're not disappointed, are you?"

"Disappointed? No. Though I wish I remembered our wedding better."

"Let's go make up for it and celebrate with our friends. And then—" Harry leaned in and whispered something very, very naughty in Draco's ear.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a plan."

Hand in hand, they walked out of the room to where their loved ones awaited.


End file.
